


KILMER

by NanamiChiLovesYou



Series: SHAMA [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Blood and Violence, Dissociation, Embarrassment, Guns, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Loss of Innocence, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, No Smut, Nudity, Or well in one specific scene it isnt, Poison, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Revenge, Sexual Abuse, Slavery, Suicidal Thoughts, Swords, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Trauma, Unhealthy Relationships, Unsympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Unsympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, after a certain point he goes by janus from then on, ask to tag, he starts off as Soren for anyone confused, its not sexual tho, janus has a different name at first but it changes soon, so sorry my creativity twin lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27115310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NanamiChiLovesYou/pseuds/NanamiChiLovesYou
Summary: Janus has spent so long going in and out of cells. His species is hated for simply existing, killed and sold for their scales, eyes, fangs.He's worried now that this is the new worst low of his lifeConveniently, heaven allows such things to exist with no punishmentThis story is based off of the song KILMER. I recommend listening to the song AFTER reading the story, as this story is directly based off of this song and has heavy spoilers.Please read the tags before reading, there's disturbing and triggering content. If I happened to have missed anything please tell me and I'll add it right away.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Sleep | Remy Sanders, Familial Deceit | Janus Sanders & Sleep | Remy Sanders, Unhealthy Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Series: SHAMA [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979182
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	KILMER

The world is unfair. That's just a well known fact by now. Only, it was worse for people of Søren's species, from what he knows. He doesn't know a lot, though. But he's had first hand experience with the brutality of the humans since he was quite young. He's been in and out of locked cages, cells, and rooms all his life. He was even locked in a confession room to repent for being his species.

He's not sure how long he's been in his cage. It wasn't all lonely, there were others of his kind in other cells, but they weren't allowed to talk. But it brought some comfort knowing that they weren't alone in this dark and gloomy place at least. 

One could say he was blissfully ignorant of the predicaments that were happening daily for his kind. He's only seen a few things for himself. He didn't know how bad it was. He was quite innocent.

So being taken back by his mother was a bit jarring, seeing just how bad things have gotten. They covered their bodies with dark cloaks, keeping their heads low. Though it would seem someone saw his face before he could fully hide it. He didn't notice that stare though, too focused on holding onto his mother and trying to not make himself look too obvious.

The street was bustling with people, and none of them looked particularly friendly. Smoke seemed to fill the air, from cigars and joints, making Søren want to hold his breath. There was shouting, and he would notice how some would take a second to look at the two of them, and it filled him with anxiety. 

Gang fights and crowds of people were shouting and yelling, painting blood on the pavement. Policemen desperately grabbing the drunken people away from the commotion, as if this was a regular thing that occurred. There were many newspapers and missing persons posters. There was so much filth, and not enough officers. Everything was covered with scum here. 

It was hard to get a good look at everything with his head held so low. But if someone caught a glimpse of his scales, he'd be taken from his mother again. He grips tighter to her sleeve.

She looked almost the same age as him. They seemed more like siblings than mother and son. But that's just how their species aged. But he could tell the stress was getting to her, a few grey hairs in her otherwise gorgeous honey colored hair. In actuality, they start greying so far into the future. It worried him to see how his mother was seeming to age quicker from stress. He's still not quite sure what he needs to be stressed about most. It seems there's a grocery list of worries he hasn't even been told about yet, plus all of the worries he's seeing just by walking in the streets. Hopefully he doesn't have to come back to this area, though. He's not sure why any of them would in the first place. He hopes they get where they're going soon.

He lowers his head farther, adjusting his hood and going past the crowd. 

  
  


A man hums in his chair, blowing smoke out from his lips, looking over the photos him and his brother were able to get. It wasn't a lot, since the young man had hidden his face quickly. But not quick enough. 

Roman stares at the pictures. Brilliant golden scales, and something very uncommon. Heterochromia. He was used to the yellow eyes of their species, but this man had a brown eye and a yellow eye. It would definitely give him a pretty penny, plus his mother's eyes could go with the collection, along with the fangs. He wets his lips, closing his eyes. 

"Well, Remus… We have someone following them, yes?" He asks, throwing an arm over his eyes and laying back dramatically in his chair. 

"Yep, yep! We should get a call any minute now!" His brother says in excitement. It was an obnoxious sound. "I wonder how many there'll be."

"Mm." Roman hums, not that interested. "We could get some money from selling their scales, unless we find a particularly pretty one that we can sell."

"Oh, you mean like the guy we took pictures of?" Remus asks, smirking. A smirk also grows on Roman's face.

"Maybe. Though he could be my most precious prize. I've got a lot of prizes… none quite like him, though. Quite generous of his mother, showing off her virgin son's face like that… She was just offering him to me on a silver platter." He chuckles. "We're keeping him alive."

Saying this, he suddenly jumps up from his seat, more energetic than ever. He stretches his arms out over his head, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. "Remy, prepare a cell for me. I don't know how cooperative our new pet's gonna be."

"Yes sir." Remy sighs, bowing and excusing himself, seemingly eager to get out of the room. Roman smirks at that. And as if it were scripted, Remus's phone rings from his pocket. 

"Wonderful timing. Let's get the crew and head over, shall we?"

"Hell yeah!" Remus shouts, making Roman grimace in annoyance.

"How vulgar…"

  
  


In front of Søren was a beautiful, seemingly abandoned old church. It was off the path, not very easy to find. Its cracked pillars and marble were charming, and the overgrowth made it look like it was out of a fairytale. It wasn't too big, but it was big enough to fit a bunch of people. It was already seeming to get late. But this location was far from the city, with no visible path. His nerves settled down at the thought of that. 

"Come on, Sø, I'm sure you're tired from all of that. And I owe you an explanation or two." She jokes, a tired tone lacing her voice as she ushers him inside the church. But now that she mentioned it, he did feel quite tired.

Inside the church were many of his kind, colorful scales of all varieties. The rows of seats were put to use, many beds made from them, some occupied, while most were empty. On the right wall was a map spread out and had marked areas in blue and red. There was text there, too, but he couldn't quite make it out. Most of the windows are boarded up or covered by thick curtains, but it seems a majority of said curtains have been turned into blankets. Children were here too, playing with old dolls and drawing on some paper with worn down crayons. There was hushed talking everywhere, and no one seemed to pay the two any mind. His mother brings him to a cozy looking corner, a little pillow fort thrown together. It reminds him of when he was small. Those rare moments of fun. He gives a sad smile, sitting down with his mother. 

The chatter of others filled the air, the warmth of the little fort making him comfortable. It was incredibly relaxing. Everything felt so nice. He hasn't had this in so long, and finally being here again with his mother gave him a rush of sudden emotions. He could feel his eyes starting to well up with tears at it all. He sniffles, and his mother looks over, cupping his face and wiping his tears as if he were a child.

"Oh darling… What's wrong?" She asked, such care and love in her voice that only a mother could have. 

"I just…" He pauses, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch. "I missed this. I missed you."

"Oh, honey." She smiles, pulling him in for a hug which he gladly returns, gripping onto her like a lifeline. 

"I feel like a child." He mutters, laughing a little. And she laughs, the same laugh he knows so well, it never fails to make him smile. She runs her hands through his hair.

"You're my son, I'll always baby you no matter how old you are." She teases, pinching his cheek. He laughs, pushing her away, wiping away his tears.

"I do like all the attention." He jokes, grinning. 

"Well I'll give you all the attention you want after you sleep." She says, voice slipping into the classic mom tone. 

"Weren't you gonna give me some explanations?" He asks, pouting. She sighs, smile dropping. 

"You're tired… And the things I have to say are quite serious. I don't want to make you worry all night and not get any sleep." She smiles. "I'll tell you when we're both well rested."

"Fine, that's understandable I guess. I am pretty tired." 

"Alright, well lay down and get some sleep. I'm going to talk with some of the others, okay?"

"Mkay." He nods, flopping on his back into the cushions. They were a little stiff, and not fluffed, but it was heaven compared to the cold floor of his cell. His mother smiles.

"Love you, Søren. Sleep tight." She says, tucking some hair out of his face and standing up. He falls asleep a lot quicker than he thought he would.

His foresight is slow moving. This could have been predicted, had they been more careful, but he didn't think something like this would happen so soon after reuniting with his mother. Fate was cruel like that. 

He was awoken by his mother pulling him up to his feet, and his eyes snapped open, his feet clumsily trying to keep up with her. He'd gotten a small glimpse of what was happening, but not much. There was blood, though, and that was enough to get him to run. There was a lot of noise. Shouting and smashing and gun fire and crying. Their pleas are without result. He suddenly felt incredibly sick as he ran alongside his mother, now fully awake. 

"Mom… what's going on?" He asks, looking around. She keeps her mouth sealed as she runs through the hallways, trying to find a specific room. Going down stairs to an old, dusty wine cellar that has clearly been abandoned for years, and to an old door in the corner. She ushers him inside of the small, dusty room, closing the door and pushing an old chair up against it. 

It was so dark in this room, and the dust made it hard to breathe. He has to hold in his coughing, his throat and nose irritated already. She slowly sits down next to him, holding onto him tightly, almost cradling him, and he holds her just as tightly. Their eyes never leave the vague silhouette of the door.

There was still chaos upstairs, though the noise was muffled. Still, he knows that up there are his kind, probably dead and being skinned for their scales. Children screaming and crying, maybe dead. He wants to cry, but he holds it in, too scared to make any sort of noise. 

He's not sure how long they stayed in there. It felt like hours of sitting in silent terror. And it only worsens. They hear the telltale creaking of wooden steps, and they both stiffen in each other's grasp. His grip was so tight, he was worried he'd bruise his mother but he was too scared to let go. 

There's the sound of a flipping lightswitch, some buzzing, and a dull glow soon creeps under the door. A man hums, whistling and walking around. 

"Come out, come out wherever you are~" The voice taunts, taking a few steps forward. There's silence for a minute, as if the person was waiting for an answer. They then hear a sigh. "I'm giving you an easy way out here. I can see the footprints in the dust, y'know, little snakes."

Søren's heart dropped, and with the small bit of light, he could see how his mother's face paled. He could feel her shaking, and he was fairly sure he was shaking too. They both remained silent. The footsteps draw closer, a second pair he hadn't heard following behind.

"You think it's him?" A different voice asks.

"Maybe. He wasn't upstairs with the others. I'll be pissed if this isn't the one." The first man says, sighing. "If you come out like you're asked, I might spare your lives."

They stay still despite his words. His life was alright while it lasted. At least he'd die with his mother. He shuffles closer to her and she cradles him close. 

"Alright then." The man huffs, giving a forceful kick at the door that makes him flinch. "Blocking the door, hm? Maybe you're smarter than the reptiles upstairs."

With that, he gives it another kick, the door audibly cracking at the blow. 

"Remus, do you want the honors? I don't want splinters." The man says, sighing. 

"Oh, if I get splinters, can I let them stay in and get infected?" The other man asks, excited. The sentence makes Søren's nose scrunch up, and the man's excited tone in such a tense situation made his stomach turn.

"Fine. Don't show them to me, though." He huffs. "Get on with it now. I'm sick of waiting."

"Rodger!"

And with that, he hears a running start and the door slamming louding, opening cracks and holes in the old wood, light peering in through the openings. The man reaches his hand through, the splintering wood cutting his arm but he doesn't seem to care. The chair gets pushed out of the way and the door opens to reveal the two. Terror is shown in their faces as they clutch onto one another, his mother putting herself in front of him. 

"Oh, well this is a pleasant surprise." The man says, walking to the open door and ignoring the other man- Remus- despite his bloody arm. The way he stared down at the two of them made him shiver. 

"Alright then…" Before either of them could move, the man grabs his mother, pulling his mother out of his arms as if he was taking a bottle from a baby, so effortlessly. He gasps, moving forward before he's caught by his shirt, two arms snaking around him and holding him in place while the, and Søren watches with wide eyed terror as his mother is held in place, a gun to her head. The man smiles at Søren, keeping direct eye contact as he pulls the trigger.

And in a flash, a loud shot could be heard, his mother's blood splattering their faces, and coating the walls red. He releases her and she falls to the floor with a heart dropping thump.

He's worried now that this is the new worst low of his life. Conveniently, heaven allows such things to exist with no punishment. 

He screams. He's never been in so much agony before, he's never felt this much emotion in his life. His own voice sounded broken to his ears, and his vision blurred with tears as he tore himself from the man's grasp and ran for his mother's dead body.

"Grab him."

Before he could even touch his mother, he's practically thrown onto the floor, the air leaving his lungs and he desperately tries to breathe. He couldn't tell if his nose was broken or not, but it sure was bleeding, he couldn't inhale, gasping for air through his mouth. His eyesight was fuzzy, he couldn't tell if it was from tears or if he just can't open his eyes. Probably both. His entire body aches as the man keeps him down with a foot on his back. He's sure that it'd bruise.

"Yep, yep, this is your fate after all!" Remus taunts, forcefully pulling him up by his arms, making his shoulders ache, but he still drops to his knees, his legs burning and feeling weak. There's cuffs around his wrists, the metal is cold and familiar. 

"Don't worry, I'll treat you with love. I'll give you all the love you want and more." The other man says, grabbing his chin and tilting his head up to look at him. "And you'll love me too, in time."

A tear slides down his face and onto the man's thumb. Søren shouts out.

"There is no love, this is no love!" He yells, struggling weakly. His voice was hurting. He sobs, and the man drops his head, his whole body shaking.

"Poor snake, I pity you." He shakes his head. "Cover his head. Let's get the girl's eyes and fangs. Maybe the scales while we're at it. Golden scales usually cost more."

Søren only struggles more at those words, shouting and kicking and trying desperately to get this man away. He gets kicked rather roughly in the side as a result, a sharp pain blooming in his side and tears prickling his eyes. It hurts alot, and while he's distracted by the pain, a thick bag is placed over his head and he can hear footsteps walking to his mother's body.

He can't see it, but the knowledge of it happening, along with the sounds is enough to make him want to throw up. The scraping of the knife, the grunts from one of them as they try to yank her fangs out, the shuffling of the body, and the undeniable sound of scales being removed. He feels sick. His entire body hurts. Or maybe it's just exhaustion. Probably both. His life was already falling apart around him. 

Ripped through the velvet rope. 

* * *

Roman sat back, sighing after his nice long shower. Washing blood off was never fun, but a shower is always nice. His brother Remus would disagree, though. He huffs in annoyance just at the thought of his brother. Oh well, he has a lot to celebrate! His new trophy, his collections, new slaves to auction. He'd need a new jar for his eyeballs soon. All of those yellow eyes… selling some would get them some good cash. Same with the fangs. 

But what he's most excited for is that trophy of his. The little virgin. Just the thought makes him grin. He stands up, smoothing his hair out of his face and unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. He wanted to look hot. The snake doesn't love him now, but he'll make sure he can't look away. Those eyes staring at him... 

"Remy, Anton? How's our new pet doing?" 

The two look at each other before looking back. 

"Still in shock." Remy replies, his polite tone obviously forced. "If you wanted to do anything with him he'd probably either be unresponsive or have a complete breakdown."

Roman frowns at that, good mood now turned sour.

"Ugh. Well then you two go and make him comfortable. I don't know, cheer him up or something." He speaks, as if the snake hadn't watched his mother get killed by him. Big deal. 

"Yes sir." They both say in unison, leaving the room. Roman watches them go before sitting back down. 

Søren's cell was bigger than the one he was in before, but just as uncomfortable and much more cold. He was still in his same clothes, some dried blood from his mother sticking to his skin and making him feel sick. 

There were cuffs around his wrists and ankles. Despite it being bigger, he couldn't really move much anyway. He's been hunched up in the corner, staring at the same spot on the floor.

He didn't feel real. Everything felt distant. Nothing felt real in general. His entire body felt like stone, he's hardly moved an inch, barely blinking. The only sign of life was the rise and fall of his chest. 

Everything felt dull. He didn't feel connected to his body. He didn't really feel anything at all. He's hardly processing any of his thoughts. It's all white noise. 

The thing that pulled him back to reality was the sound of footsteps. It didn't exactly pull him, though. He felt the twitch of his ear at the sound, and that movement somewhat grounded him. He blinks, slowly coming to his senses. He's still not fully there, but he's now aware of his body. He doesn't really move though, shifting his hands once before going still again. A shadow falls over him, but he doesn't look up at all. He processed the change of the light distantly, and something in his head told him someone was here, but he was still unmoving. 

He thinks he hears talking. It's like he's underwater. But then, like his head breaking through the surface of the water, everything is real again, and he sucks in a breath of air, flinching away from the hand that reached out to him. 

"Easy there, babe." One of them calls out. Two of them, there's two. They don't look very familiar. He eyes them warily. 

The one that reached out to him was a normal human from what he could see, his eyes covered by sunglasses, hiding his expression from Søren. It unnerved him a little. The other seemed to be the same species as him, red scales spreading from his temples, down his cheeks and neck, and disappearing under his shirt. They both wore the same black uniforms, very formal. A frilly black shirt with puffy sleeves tucked into some black pants. The sunglasses from the first sort of throw off the fancy aesthetic, though. 

His eyes are trained on the one of his species though. He could see this one's eyes. And his eyes were cold and calculating, seeming to evaluate Søren. He'd expect sympathy from someone of his species, but he seemed annoyed at his very presence. He unconsciously scoots back. 

The one with sunglasses snaps his fingers. 

"Hey, you here? Earth to… whoever you are. We weren't given your name."

"Remy. Manners."

"Whaaaat? The bosses aren't here, I don't have to be polite." The man, Remy, huffs and crosses his arms. "Anyways, I'm Remy and I was sent here to cheer you up or whatever. I don't really know how to do that though when you're kinda traumatized or whatever. But I don't wanna have my arm broken or something so I'm gonna bother you until you're somewhat social and emotive."

Søren already has a headache. He sighs, lowering his head and not saying a word. The company was… okay. Not exactly what he wanted. And very badly timed. He's honestly still processing all of it, he can barely focus on what Remy's saying. Maybe there's important information but he's just so tired. He can't think even if he wants to. He's not sure if he slept at all. He can't think. His head hurts. 

Why wasn't he killed too? He just wants to be with his mom. He sounds like a child, but he doesn't care. He hadn't seen her for so long, and when he does see her again, she's killed in front of him in less than 24 hours. Maybe even less than 12 hours. He's not sure what time it was when he was woken up. But either way, he had only just reunited with her… It was cruel. So incredibly cruel. He doesn't know why he was spared. He wishes he wasn't spared. Death would be much more relaxing than this hell. Maybe he's already dead. Who really knows?

He doesn't know. He's so tired. 

…

"Uhh…" Remy hums, looking at the passed out reptilian. He looks at Anton, who says nothing. "Should we tell Roman?"

"Tell Roman what?" A voice behind them asks. Remy nearly jumps out of his skin, Anton only flinching as they turn around. 

"Sir! I was trying to talk to him but he just fell asleep. Should I wake him up, or…? He didn't really seem to be listening to me when I spoke." He speaks quickly, Roman only looking slightly annoyed. He sighs, brushing a hand through his hair. 

"Fine. One of you bring him a blanket." He orders. "I'd let him have the bed, but we don't know how well behaved he'll be… But he's cold blooded, right? I don't want him freezing to death."

If it were anyone else, it might've sounded like Roman actually cared. Just a little. But it was probably just him being tired of waiting and not wanting his new toy to freeze to death before he can have fun. Anton looks mildly annoyed, but takes the order as a chance to leave the room and grab the blanket. 

Remy straightens his posture, holding his hands behind his back as instructed. He's not sure if he's allowed to speak or not, Roman didn't say anything. He's glad he was able to chatter with someone, even if that someone was like an unresponsive husk. He doesn't really get to talk much at all. 

He glances to the man in the cage, he feels sympathy for the poor guy. He was in a similar spot… sort of. He's not sure what role this guy will fill, but hopefully since Roman likes him he'll have a more comfortable living. Or as comfortable as you can get in this place. He started as a slave and basically gambled his way to be one of the head butlers, and one of the heads of the slaves of the estate, Anton being the other. It still wasn't great, but it was better than fearing he might die. Well, he still has that fear, but it's less likely now unless he disobeys.

Anton returns, heeled boots clicking on the floor and making Remy aware of just how quiet it is. It's a bit unnerving, but he doesn't show his anxiety. He's become quite the pro at masking his emotions. Anton walks to the cage, a blanket in hand. It wasn't cheap, but it does feel like Anton went out of his way to get something far less expensive. It wasn't silky or fluffed, just a plain blanket. He's not really sure what he has against the new guy, but he keeps his mouth shut. Roman doesn't seem to care or even notice, just taking it and walking to the cell. 

He pulls off a necklace with the key on it and opens the lock. He could see the man flinch. Roman pays no mind, walking up to the chained man and draping the blanket over his shoulders. The man doesn't move. Roman huffs, an annoyed look on his face, but he backs away, leaving the cell, closing and locking the door behind him. He sighs, hands on his hips. 

"When you prepare dinner you'll bring some for him." He states, closing his eyes. "Make sure he eats. If he's… responsive by tomorrow I expect him to be bathed and have measurements taken for his clothing." 

As he says this, he walks towards the door. "Thank you very much, lovelies." He gives an almost charming smile as he leaves the room. Anton huffs, clearly annoyed. Remy finally decides to speak. 

"Geez, what's up with you? What'd the new guy do?" He asks, placing a hand on his hip. Anton hisses. 

"He's been all Roman talks about. It's annoying." That obviously wasn't the whole truth, but he didn't push it any farther in fear of angering the other further. His fangs were already removed, but he could come up with some creative ways to kill someone. 

"Geeeeez." He huffs, throwing his head back. "Girl, whatever. I'm gonna stay here a bit longer before joining you and the others. Keep an eye on him or whatever."

"Fine." And with that, he turns and leaves the room. Remy looks at the man in the cage. Hopefully he'll make it. 

  
  


Søren didn't expect to wake up. Or if he did expect to wake up, he'd hope it was all just a dream and his mother could console him. That obviously didn't happen. But what he woke up to was still strange. A blanket over him and the smell of food. He blinks, taking a moment to fully wake up. 

"Heyyy, wakey wakey eggs and bakey. Except it's not eggs and bacon. It's some overly fancy bullshit." A voice says, opening the cage and stepping inside. He looks up to see Remy. He sighs, dropping his head again. Maybe he should sleep some more.

"Okay. Rude." He gives a little laugh, sitting down in front of him with a plate of food. He was surprised to see that it wasn't anything like tg food he was given in his last cell. He's surprised he even got a sizable portion. It seems all too generous for a slave. 

"Is it poisoned?" He asks carefully. Remy gasps.

"He speaks! And here I thought you couldn't talk." He jokes. "But no, it's not. Here."

Saying that, Remy steals a cherry tomato and pops it in his mouth. "See? Not dead."

He leans back against the bars, which is obviously uncomfortable since Søren was doing the same, only Remy chose to be uncomfortable. He still eyes the food suspiciously. 

"Will my hands still be chained?" He asks quietly. Remy frowns. 

"Yeah, sorry about it babe. You don't have to cut anything though or whatever, just pick it up and eat it. It's messy but I wasn't allowed to bring utensils since you might lash out or something." He gives an over dramatic sigh, throwing his arm over his eyes. "It's annoying, really. You'll probably be treated better though when they confirm you're not a threat. I know it sucks, but if you want to live comfortably, you gotta obey them. Otherwise… I don't really know what will happen. He likes you, though, so he might treat you better."

Those words didn't sit right with him, and they honestly made him feel sick. He really hates all of this, and the thought of obeying them sparked anxiety inside of him. What would they even make him do? There's so many possibilities.

"I know you're not feeling great but you need to eat." Remy pushes the plate forward. "One, you haven't eaten in a while probably, and two, we'd both get in trouble."

"... Both of us?" He asks slowly, eyeing Remy. 

"Yeah. Roman wants you to eat at least some of your meal. If you don't it'll be my fault for not force feeding you or something. At least eat a bit of it, please." 

Søren frowns, eyebrows furrowing. That was incredibly unfair, but he's learned by now that the world doesn't play fair. He'll just eat a bit. He doesn't like the idea of someone else being punished for his actions. 

"Okay… I'll eat. I don't know how much I'll eat, though."

"That's fine. As long as you eat."

He didn't end up eating much. He wasn't all that hungry even though he hasn't eaten in a while, his appetite gone after everything that happened. 

He sighs, dropping his hands to his lap. He could feel but not see Remy's stare. He closes his eyes, curling up on himself. 

"I wanna go home…" He whispers, covering his face with his hands. He could feel tears prickling at his eyes. The weight of the situation suddenly drops on him, and he re-realizes how his life has been stolen from him, and nothing will ever be the same again. He hiccups, his body wracking with his quiet sobs. Remy hums, standing up and sitting down next to him. 

"I know. Me too." He says quietly. He doesn't touch Søren, just sitting down next to him and letting him cry. "I'm sorry there's not a lot I can do."

He shakes his head, curling up further. He awkwardly places a hand on his shoulder and Søren leans into it. It's nice having gentle human contact. Reny sighs, putting his arm around his shoulders. He's not the best at comforting others, but if this is what the guy needed he'll provide.

He's not sure how long they sit there.

"Tomorrow you'll get a bath and get measurements for some new clothes. I know it's not a lot but you'll need it." He says simply. "I can't stay in here for much longer, sorry about that. Just… I don't know. I hope you sleep well. Sorry."

Saying this, Remy grabs his plate and stands up, not saying another word as he leaves the cage and Søren alone with his thoughts. 

  
  


Evening, Søren shakily walked behind Remy with regrets, understanding that salvation was not in hand. The halls felt empty and lonely, their footsteps echoing. He rubs his dirty arm. He's got dried blood and dirt and dust all over him. He's pretty sure he's cut and bruised in a lot of places, too. He lowers his head, keeping his gaze on the marble floors. A bath sounded nice. He just wanted to desperately scrub the filth off of himself. 

The bathroom was large. Much larger than it needed to be. It was fancy, and everything felt expensive. He shuffles awkwardly. 

"Sorry about this. I was ordered to stay with you. You've got a change of clothes, but I'm not sure how well they'd fit." He explains, leaning up against the wall. 

"Ah…" He nods, incredibly uncomfortable. 

He peeled off his sticky clothes, grimacing at the blood and sweat. Remy was staring up at the chandelier, it being apparently incredibly interesting. Søren shakes his head, turning towards the full body mirror. He looked awful.

His nose was bruised and there were dark circles under his eyes. Dried blood was flaking on his face both from his nose bleed from before and… He shakes his head. His body was bruised too, knees scraped and a bruise on his back and side from where he was kicked and held down. There were small scratches, probably from the splintered wood. His hair was messy and sticking out in different directions. His golden scales looked dull and dirty. He looked like a beaten abandoned man. He felt sick just looking at himself. He quickly turns away, shuddering a sigh and trying to not think about anything. 

Stepping into the bath, though, was a bit of a stress reliever, his sore muscles loosening a bit in the warm water. He closes his eyes, taking a moment to relax before scrubbing his body down, trying to get all the grime and blood off of him. He ducks his head underwater, desperately scrubbing at his face and wincing at the pain from his bruises. He's sure his face is red now from how hard he's been scrubbing, but he doesn't really care. He breaks the surface, gasping for air. Remy startles, looking over.

"Are you okay?" He asks, rushing over. Søren gives a hum. The man could be endearing if he wanted to be. He looked shocked for some reason.

"I'm fine. I was just washing my face."

"You don't have to dunk underwater to wash your face!" He huffs, crossing his arms. "Unbelievable. And here I was actually worried about you."

Søren gives a little smile, albeit strained. It was nice to hear, and the banter distracted him. Remy stares at him. 

"What?"

He's quiet for a moment before shaking his head. "Nothing. Just finish up soon."

He nods, relaxing back into the bath, the light atmosphere going away as quickly as it came. 

The clothes were light, and a bit too big for him, but they were better than his old bloody clothes. He blinks slowly at himself in the mirror. He looked somewhat better. He wasn't dirty anymore, at least. He was still bruised and beaten, and he still looked tired, but his scales were shiny and golden again.

He follows Remy down the empty halls again. It felt so lonely. And cold… He rubs his arms, keeping his head low. He sighs, looking around. The walk wasn't long, entering a room with what looks to be a seamstress and Roman inside.

"Ah, Remy, Janus!" He greets them brightly. The confusion was obvious on their faces. At that, the man laughs. He'd almost be charming if he weren't a monster.

"That's the name I chose for my snake! Isn't it nice? I put some thought into it." He dramatically sweeps hair out of his face, his nose turned up with a smug grin. 

"But my name-"

"Is Janus." He says, voice now low and expression dropping. "You can kiss your old life goodbye. Your name is Janus."

Janus… 

The god of doorways, gates and transitions, beginnings and ends. Having two faces looking in opposite directions. One towards the past and one towards the future. 

Janus feels sick. Any last humanity is just being stolen from him. He really is turning into a possession. 

"Anyways, come one and come all! Step right up and you'll be given a beautiful outfit, fitting for my love." He says, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. His face scrunches with disgust and Roman gives him a glare, pushing him onto the little stage. 

He stumbles, standing awkwardly with all eyes on him. His heart beats fast, his fingers shaking. The seamstress has an impatient gaze on him. He shudders a bit, closing his eyes tightly and undressing, his face and ears red. He could feel the eyes on him, and he doesn't open his, stiff as a board as the lady handles him like a doll, taking his measurements and her cold hands touching his body made him flinch every time. 

At least he wasn't fully naked, but the embarrassment was still there. He's sure Roman was getting a kick out of this. The sick bastard. Why is this taking so long? Or maybe it hasn't been long at all. Either way, it wasn't going quick enough. 

"Okay, dress yourself." The seamstress says, jotting down notes on a clipboard. He opens his eyes slowly, face still hot with embarrassment. His shoulders relax somewhat, but he's still uncomfortable as he quickly gets changed. He can feel Roman's eyes on him, but he doesn't look over, stepping off of the stage and towards Remy. He can hear Roman scoff behind him, and he tenses up again. 

"What sort of outfits are you thinking of, Roman?" The seamstress asks behind him. 

"Well, I want to give him the best of the best, make him shine bright! So, really, anything fancy. I'm sure he'd look good in a dress, though." Roman chuckles. The woman just hums, not interested. 

"Okay. I'll prepare casual, formal, and sleep clothes, then. Black would fit his scales nicely." She looks him over, nodding to herself. "It'd also fit him in with the others."

"Lovely! I can't wait to see what you come up with, madam!" Roman bows and she rolls her eyes. 

"Whatever. Get out of my studio." She shoos the three of them out. Janus is surprised she didn't get yelled at for that. Maybe she isn't a slave? He doesn't know. He holds his arm awkwardly, avoiding Roman's gaze. 

After a week he was given fancy clothes, more expensive than he can imagine. But he sees some of the outfits and knows they're not for his enjoyment.

* * *

Janus was released from his shackles and into Roman's bedroom. Where he'll be staying. The thought makes him incredibly sick. He knows what Roman wants from him, he's not an idiot. He doesn't want it though. And each minute the clocks tick by, the more his anxiety grows. He knows it'll happen, whether he likes it or not, but he doesn't know when. 

He stands in the empty bedroom, practically shaking. He'd rather be in the cell than in here. Even though this room is more comfortable, he doesn't want to sleep with Roman. The room was larger than needed for a bedroom, and the bed was so big. There was a collection of swords on the wall along with a frame and fangs inside. He feels like he might throw up. He doesn't have many places to run to. He doesn't know what would even happen if Roman were to catch him. The thought alone makes him terrified. 

He's not sure how much time has passed before the door opens. He immediately stiffens up as Roman comes through the door. Their eyes meet, and the smirk the man gives makes his heart stop. He takes a step back, and the two stare at each other, the air tense. Janus tries to run without really thinking about it. Like a cat, Roman pounces and catches the mouse in his claws. He tries kicking his way out of Roman's grasp, panting and heaving. He just laughs, throwing him on the bed like a sack of apples. 

"I like it when you fight back. You're not gonna get out of kicking me so easily, though."

Janus might throw up. He was in a lot of pain. His entire body felt sore and he felt like a ragdoll. The man was next to him in bed, their backs turned to each other which he's thankful for. Not that any of this situation was good. He just didn't want to be touched anymore. He shivers, curling in on himself, his eyes blurry with tears. He tries to keep quiet. This was all so much. 

There's aching all throughout his body, and it burned. He never wants to be touched again. 

He feels filthy, invaded, guilty, worthless… He feels disgusting. He can still feel the hands on his body. He needs a shower, but he's scared to move in fear of waking Roman up. He could say he just wants to shower, but he fears that Roman would ask to join. He shudders, curling in on himself. 

He didn't fall asleep that night. The moment Roman wakes up and allows him to move, he goes straight to the bathroom. 

He took a shower this time, the water burned but it was better than the gross feeling he had been enduring all night. He sits down on the tiled floor, too tired to stand up. He scrubs his arms and legs perhaps too much, rubbing it raw. It stung horribly in the shower and with the soap and it made tears prickle in his eyes, but it got rid of the feeling.

He must have washed his entire body about 4 times before the water started to turn cold. 

He seeked out Remy, saying nothing as he sits in front of him and holds out his arm. Remy says nothing as well, a tense silence in the air as he treats the raw skin. 

He's lost count of how long this abuse has been going on for. His hair was longer, he had the gang's tattoo on his leg, and he's given up hope entirely. He's learned how to dissociate during these periods, becoming a shell of a being and only coming back after it's over. This wasn't one of those time's unfortunately. Being conscious through it all and suffering while it happens instead of after. It made him physically sick this time.

He vomits in the trash can by the bed, Roman holding his hair out of his face as if he actually cared. Misleading gentleness from the man that was just earlier assaulting him. 

"My, you have quite the fever." He says, patting his back. He'd ordered Anton to come, he can't really remember when he got here, but he stood in the corner holding a tray with water and medicine. He was glaring daggers at the two of them. He heaves one last time before pulling away, wiping his mouth. He felt gross and sweaty. 

"Come on, lay down." Roman says, practically picking him up and setting him down.

He laid on his side, naked, staring blankly at the wall. He blinks as Roman comes on top of him. 

"I'll get you sick." He says simply. 

"Oh, I know." He laughs. "Just feeling all fairytale like."

Janus doesn't understand what he means. He says nothing. 

"But since there's an audience watching, surely it all seems like enjoyable fun, right?" He practically taunts him. He could feel Anton's eyes on them. 

"Shut up." He says it without really thinking. Roman only smirks. 

"You must be pretty sick." He plants a kiss on his forehead. "I'll watch you 'til your fever's gone, until then it is what it is."

Janus grunts, closing his eyes. 

"I'll take care of you until you die."

...Die? 

Fear courses through his veins and his eyes open wide. He imagines the night he was taken and he imagines his mother on the ground with her eyes gouged out and her scales stolen. 

And he wonders, 

The thought wouldn't surprise him, but it didn't make him feel any better. It made him feel worse, really. 

"Aw, it's okay. Just relax and sleep tight. I love you." He says, brushing hair out of his face. He lays next to him, holding him throughout the night. On one hand, he's glad that it got cut short, but on the other, he hates the feeling of his arms around him. It fills him with anxiety. He might throw up again, even though he already got everything out of his system.

He didn't get much sleep that night and slept in the next day. When he woke up, he took another long shower. 

He hates this. He wants it to end.

* * *

  
  


His hair was quite long now, braided behind him. He hates his life. He wants to die. It's a well known fact that he wants to die. He's asked Roman to just kill him multiple times. He's not allowed near anything that could be potentially dangerous. It just felt like they were dragging out his suffering, making it as painful as possible before release. 

There'll be an event later tonight. A slave auction party. Only, he's not going as a butler or a slave, but an important person to accompany Roman and be his accessory to show off. He was bathed and his hair was done nicely for the event, makeup hiding the dark circles under his eyes, and a dress that felt too tight and way too short. Thankfully he's learned how to walk in heels, so he won't be stumbling tonight. But if he did fall and break his neck from these shoes, he wouldn't mind all that much. 

Women and men were lined up all in a row in the hallway, hands chained behind their backs. He felt bad for them, but unfortunately there's nothing he can really do. Their heads were lowered, and it reminded him of when he was first brought here. He closes his eyes, sighing and looking away. 

"Not enjoying yourself?" A voice asks. He looks up to see Anton, an unreadable expression in his face. He held a tray of wines in one hand.

Remy sighs, running a hand through his hair. He hates these events. It hurts seeing the slaves get bought. All of them could've had great lives. He shakes his head, entering his and Anton's shared room to get dressed for this dumb lame party. He sighs, grabbing his clothes and changing without much care. He looks over on Anton's side, figuring he was already serving tables cause he's a huge pushover. He huffs, rolling his eyes before they land on a small bottle on Anton's bedside table. He picks it up, and he can feel his heart stop. Poison.

He knew immediately what was happening. He ran down the halls, not caring if he got in trouble for this. He had to run. The slave quarters were farther away from Roman's room, he'd be too late if he didn't run. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" He swears to himself.

He had dropped his sunglasses, not caring enough to pick them back up cause he needs to fucking hurry. He hasn't ran in so long, his legs hurt, honestly. It burned and his lungs hurt but he would not let Janus kill himself.

Anton offers a glass out to Janus. It was obviously a different color from the rest. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. 

"Punishment and poison is to be feared like the horses and deer," Anton says as Janus slowly takes the glass, "There is no need for medicine then."

Saying this, he walks away with the tray in hand. Janus stares down into the glass, contemplating, before someone catches his arm, gripping it hard. He flinches, seeing Remy there panting and staring up at him with intense eyes that reminded Janus of someone he hasn't seen in a long time. Anton looks over his shoulder, growling, before leaving. He figures Janus will kill himself anyways. Remy stands up straight, still breathing heavily. He'll prove Anton wrong.

"Don't." He says strictly and firmly. Janus stares. 

"I-"

"Do not." He repeats. "Do you really want to die tonight without ever getting your freedom again? Do you want to die as a slave to Roman?"

Janus stays quiet. He didn't realize how much Remy was a family to him until now. His heart pounds at this little realization. He remembers his mother, and he remembers all the times Remy has comforted him. He's been holding everything in for so long, trying to ignore everything and escape from it all. He failed to realize how much Remy cares about him. Something sparks inside of him.

"You have access to Roman's room, right?" He asks. 

"Yes." Janus replies. 

Remy nods, catching his breath. "Good."

With that, he straightens his outfit. "I need to serve tables. Good luck, Janus."

And with that, Janus was alone with a glass of poison. Remy was confident he wouldn't drink it. He stares into the pinkish liquid. He closes his eyes. He's made up his mind. He's had so much anger in him for so long. It was time for him to finally let the monster out.

It was a burning rage he hasn't felt in so long, but it was always there, brewing and growing until it finally burst. He won't let his mother or anyone else die in vain. He won't die a slave.

He grips the glass, going to Roman's room. Opening the door, it was empty, no one but himself in sight. The light from the hallway shined behind him, his shadow casting into the room. He walks up to the display of swords, and in one swift kick, he breaks the glass with his heel. As the clock ticks by, his resolve grows stronger. He grabs a nice, sharp sword, running his fingers over the flat end, feeling the cold metal. He swings it to try it out, the blade cutting through the air with ease. It fit in his hand as if it were made just for him. It was perfect. 

He walks back down the hall, looking at the main doors to where the party is being held. Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm his nerves as he pours the poisoned wine over the blade of the sword, the pinkish liquid coating the blade. He opens the doors. 

Making fiery noise as he slips through the mobs and masses, a small path opening when people see him coming through. He drags his blade against the ground, a trail of venom following the snake. Uninteresting words Roman emits, smiling like a fool. There is no salvation, the hellfire he craves burning in his eyes. Roman finally sees him. And for the first time, he shows a spark of fear in those infuriating eyes. The snake strikes.

"This is goodbye." He states, swinging the sword and slicing open Roman's chest.

He's worried now that this is the new worst low of his life. Conveniently, heaven allows such things to exist with no punishment.

Roman coughs, falling on his knees and holding his chest, looking up at Janus, blood and poison painting the marble floors. The beast he's been keeping in this entire time has been set loose. It felt good to see their roles switched, Roman on the floor beneath him. 

Roman tries standing up again, only for the blade to swing, slicing across his face. He holds his face. 

"There are no safety measures for this hell." Janus growls, staring down at him. 

Roman removes his hand, blood leaking down his face. "Do you wish to break out? Who will love you if you kill me?"

He smirks, staring up at him. Janus hates it. He sees him pull out his gun. 

"There was no love here, this is no love!" He shouts, the gun pointed at him. Janus danced, his long hair taking the bullet instead. He doesn't waste any time, kicking him to the ground with his heel, standing over him and keeping him in place, digging his heel into his chest. Roman coughs, staring up at him.

"It is what it is." Janus quotes in a shout, venom in his words. 

"It is what it is." Roman repeats, he lets him say it one last time, his anger growing stronger still. The sword is pointed to his neck, a bead of blood coming out. "What would your mother think? You can't kill me. You love me."

Janus hesitates, some tears coming to his eyes. 

"Insolent hooligan." He hisses, but tears still fell. He realizes that he's killing. The thought of having blood on his hands sickened him but he thinks of his mother, her comforting touches, and Remy who let him get here in the first place. He'd already made up his mind. He can't hesitate now. Killing is nothing compared to what Roman has done. Killing him will bring more good than harm. He calms down slightly, slowly entering the eye of the storm.

"Nothing's unthinkable. You spit and throw away men." He states, voice no longer angry but instead confident, pressing the tip of the sword harder to his neck. Enlightened, he shouts, "Therefore there is no love, this is no love!"

And with that shout, he raises the sword and stabs it down into Roman's throat. Red cranberry painted the floors, painted Janus's face. 

Cut through the velvet rope.

He breathes heavily, standing up with the sword at his side. He had been so focused on Roman, he didn't realize the chaos that had happened around him. He looks around to see the guests dead. Even Remus was on the floor. Anton is nowhere to be seen. He looks up, seeing Remy and some of the slaves that were supposed to be auctioned in the middle of it all. 

Some of the slaves had died. But a majority stood with weapons in hand. Kitchen knives, and some swords he guesses Remy took from Roman's room. 

They stare at each other. Everyone seemed shocked, dazed, and tired. All of them had blood on their hands. Somehow, Janus has never felt calmer in his life. A huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

The sirens of the police break through the silence, red and blue lights flashing through the windows. They stare at the windows.

"Go." Janus says. "Hide them and yourself."

"But-"

"They just got freed, they're not going back in shackles." He says that, walking past Remy and not turning back.

"You were in shackles too!"

Janus looks over his shoulder, a smirk on his face and a light in his eye that Remy had never seen before.

"I think I can handle it."

Remy wants to chase after him, but he looks at the group of freed slaves and nods. He'll come back for Janus, he silently promises to himself. He gathers the group and runs.

Stepping out in front of a gang of police guards and news reporters, guns and cameras pointed at him. He looks at them all, humming to himself. He sighs and he holds his hands up, dropping the sword by his feet. Cuffs are arounds his wrists. Cameras flash. 

He smiles for the picture.

**Author's Note:**

> -cast-  
> JANUS as KALMIA  
> ROMAN as GUI  
> REMUS as RON  
> REMY as LIVARA  
> ANTON as ARMIS
> 
> SONG: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g_ryxSMlouo&ab
> 
> Next in SHAMA will be GAUZE  
> In which Janus meets a cute police officer with an obvious crush.
> 
> Edit as of 10/24/20:  
> Changed some lines to connect it more with GAUZE when that story comes out. Nothing much is changed. Just lines added.


End file.
